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Frustration Pt. 01

By: kalkstein1970



I wait.

In the candlelit, perfumed dimness of your bedroom, I wait. My cock is throbbing, aching, practically screaming to be allowed to cum. My balls - well, my balls feel like they've swollen to three times their normal size and are pulsing with a deep-seated ache, a dull pounding that feels as if something is inside me, hammering to get out. I want more than anything in the world to be able to touch my cock, jack it hard and fast until the hot cum explodes...but I can't.

You, being the dominant bitch that you are, have left me restrained. I am fully naked, standing upright and spread eagled against a wooden X-cross, my wrists and ankles bound tight with soft leather straps to the four ends of the cross. Three more, larger straps keep my thighs, waist and chest pinned. Even my head is bound tight - yet another strap is cinched across my forehead, and I can only look straight ahead. 

I have been this way for some time, I don't know how long, ever since you gave my aching dick a final, light caress after a long teasing session, kissed me gently on the cheek, and said you had to go out for awhile. You wouldn't say for how long. I tried to protest, sweat standing out on my brow, but I couldn't: in the final humiliation, you had fixed a dildo gag firmly into my mouth and strapped it tight around the back of my head. The shorter side of the gag, the part in my mouth, was still long and thick enough to make it impossible to utter more than a few muffled grunts. The longer side was a thick, ridged, veiny black hard rubber cock with a monstrous, bulbous head, jutting a good ten inches out from my face. During the tease session you had repeatedly driven me mad by sucking on the dildo, softly and sensually, keeping your gaze locked on mine the entire time. It makes me almost weep with frustration even now, just to think about it.

Here I am now, bound tight, dildo gag strapped immovably in place, naked, covered in a light sheen of sweat that make the slight movements of air in the room sheer torture on my hot, blood-engorged cock. There is complete silence in the house. Every time I think I hear a noise my heart leaps - maybe you've finally returned, and maybe you're in a mood to finally give my cock and balls the release they so desperately need. But each time I'm disappointed; it's a neighbor's car, somebody walking by outside, never you. My wait stretches into eternity, and I know nothing but silence and the deep, almost inhuman ache in my groin.

The story of how I ended up here is a deceptively simple one. Boy meets girl, boy and girl discover mutual interest in BDSM, boy lets girl dominate him. Run-of-the-mill romance.

Hardly.

---

You worked as a dancer at one of the nicer gentlemen's clubs in town, one that I began to frequent when my job required me to relocate across town. Being single and unattached, it was easy enough to pack up my small apartment and find another one, and shortly after settling in I went out on a Friday night to check out the nightlife in my new neighborhood. Your club had a reputation among locals as having the hottest dancers and the best brew selection; both turned out to be true. 

My first time there, I went with a couple of other guys from my new apartment complex. We ordered microbrews and sat near the stage, where an eye-poppingly gorgeous blonde with enormous tits was writhing around a gleaming pole like a sexy snake. We sipped our beers and watched appreciatively as she wrapped long, muscular legs around the pole and leaned back, showing an impossible flexibility, bending her head almost to the floor behind her, her styled blonde hair falling around her and her boobs jutting straight up at the ceiling. All of us showed her some love in the form of twenties we slipped into her tiny g-string. In return we each got a nice little ass wiggle. She was drop-dead gorgeous, all right, and I don't know about my companions, but I had a pretty good hard-on by the time her show was over and she left the stage.

Then you came on, and I forgot all about the blonde.

The DJ announced you simply as "Miss Diamond," and you strutted onstage to the beat of Katy Perry's "Roar." My first impression of you was one of total self-assurance - you projected confidence like a lioness. You owned the place; not just the stage, but the entire room, instantly and effortlessly becoming the focal point of every eye.

Mocha skin; long straight jet-black hair; a slender and athletic build; big tits - these were some of my first impressions. But what stood out most of all was your face - your exotic, almond-shaped face with deep dark eyes that were slightly uptilted, suggesting some oriental ancestry. Your mouth was a bow curved into a small and wicked-looking smile. You wore a form-fitting leather bustier, fishnet stockings, and what looked like eight-inch stiletto platform heels. Your breasts filled out the bustier nicely, bulging slightly and providing the room with a nice glimpse of ample cleavage. 

As you slowly circled the stage you seemed to meet the eye of everybody in the room in turn, fixing each person with your gaze for a moment, then moving on. Your walk was balanced and confident, which, along with the heels, gave the impression of someone very tall (I would find out later that you were only about five-six, but by then your dominant, type-A personality had made that completely irrelevant). You reached the side of the stage where I sat, and your eyes found mine for the first time. In the space of a few short seconds, you seemed to see into me in a way that I found unsettling and exciting at the same time. When your eyes released mine, I realized my cock was at full staff and I could feel precum oozing out into my boxers. Your smile seemed to widen just slightly as you looked away from me, as if you knew exactly what effect you'd had.

I have no idea how long your show lasted, but it wasn't nearly long enough. My eyes never left the stage, and when I think back on it, the memory is wrapped in a gauzy fog of entrancement. Even then, before we had even met, I was utterly under your spell - I think I was lost with that first eye contact. I remember your lithe body swaying under the pulsing lights, hypnotic movements almost like a ritual, removal of clothing so smoothly that it hardly seemed to happen at all. You took forever to reveal your breasts to your enraptured audience, teasing with little flashes of boob and nipple here and there, thrown into your erotic dance almost like afterthoughts, but without a doubt carefully planned for maximum effect - as I learned all too well later, you are a masterful cockteaser. When you finally did strip off the bustier completely and expose your tits, my jaw dropped. They were large, probably double-D, and deliciously firm, set high and tipped with hard little nipples that were a very dark chocolate brown, and they made my mouth water. 

Afterwards, I asked the bartender about your show schedule, not wanting to miss the next one. 

"Ask her yourself, buddy," he said, and slipped a folded piece of paper across the bar to me.

On the paper, in elegant, flowing script, was a single curt command: Come to my dressing room. 

---

I didn't even have to think about it. I made my way backstage, heart pounding, mouth dry, and after a few wrong turns found myself outside a closed door with a capital D on it in old English script. I knocked hesitantly.

You opened the door, and my knees immediately felt weak. You were even more exotically beautiful up close than you had been on stage. Your almond face had only the lightest makeup, just subtle accents here and there, especially around your eyes, accentuating their small upward oriental tilt. You were wearing a black silk robe, tied at the waist, and your hair was done up in a careless ponytail draped across one shoulder. The robe barely covered your nipples and left most of your delectably big boobs exposed. It was short, too, ending right below your ass and showing off your sexy legs in their entirety.

"Come in, baby," you whispered softly, locking eyes with me. When I hesitated out of sheer nervousness, your dark eyes narrowed. "In. Now." 

The iron authority behind that soft command sent a tingle through my groin and made me obey instantly. I've never thought of myself as particularly submissive, but there was no resisting that voice or those eyes; my legs moved me forward into the small room before I was even aware of it.

You closed the door behind me, and locked it.

"Stand right there," you ordered. I stood stock still. You were behind me, and I heard a soft rustling sound. "I've just dropped my robe, baby," you cooed, moving close behind me and whispering in my ear. I instinctively began to turn, and you responded immediately.

"Don't you dare turn around until I tell you to." The cooing was gone, replaced by that same unquestionable authority. I would learn in time that this was one of your most effective mind-fucks: flipping the switch between sweet sensuality and dominating bitch with no warning whatsoever. 

"Okay," I said, feeling like a fucking idiot.

"You will address me as either ma'am or mistress," she said sternly.

Wondering what the fuck you were doing to my head, I answered, almost against my will, "Okay, ma'am."

"Better," you cooed softly, moving up so close behind me that I could smell your perfume, an intoxicatingly feminine musk, and feel your hard nipples graze the middle of my back. I felt your hands on my back. You lightly raked your nails down my shoulders to my waist, and abruptly pulled my shirt out of the waistband of my jeans.

"Take this off. Now."

"Yes, mistress," I said. I took the shirt off and let it drop. You were still behind me, and not being able to see what you were doing was giving me an indescribable feeling of unease and pleasure.

I felt your cool, slender fingers and sharp nails on my bare skin, caressing my shoulders and probing gently around my sides, in those areas where many people are ticklish. I'm not, but the feeling of vulnerability made me squirm a bit.

"Nervous, baby?" you asked sweetly.

"A little, mistress," I answered. 

"Don't be. I'll take good care of you."

With that you pressed your entire body up against my back, slipping both arms around in front. Your big, firm breasts pressed deliciously against me, nipples poking into my skin. My cock, trapped inside my jeans, bulged insanely. One of your hands slid gently up my chest and found a nipple, and began to tease it lightly. You pinched it gently between two fingernails and began to massage it. I looked down, and saw that your nails were perfectly manicured, colored dark red, contrasting exquisitely with your light brown skin. The nipple teasing became more intense, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to squirm.

You put your mouth right next to my ear. "What's wrong, honey? Do you have sensitive nipples? Hmmmmm?" You gave my nipple a hard little pinch between your nails, and I gasped. "I guess you do, baby, I guess you do. I'll have to remember that."

Then, before I could process what was happening, you dropped both hands to my belt and undid the buckle in one smooth motion. My button and fly were next.

"Hold you hands above your head and press them together," you ordered.

"What?" I said, confused.

That earned me a viciously hard nipple pinching, on both of them. I cried out in pain.

"It's a simple thing," you said, back into bitch mode. "Put your fucking hands above your head, and press them together. Now. Or I'll send you out of here with your nipples swollen up like ripe cherries."

I knew you meant it.

"Yes, ma'am," I said and quickly raised my hands over my head, and pressed my palms together,

"Good," you said, and dropped your hands back to my jeans. I felt inwardly relieved that your fingers were away from my sore nipples. You pulled my jeans and boxers down in one quick jerk, leaving them around my ankles.

My throbbing dick sprang up as soon as it was free of my pants, and bobbed in the air. My cock is pretty big, maybe nine inches, with a flared head that my ex-girlfriends had always thought looked strange until they discovered what it did to them when we fucked. Then they loved it. Precum dripped freely from the tip.

Without a word you walked around in front of me. Your gorgeous boobs jiggled gently as you moved. You were completely nude, and your toned body was evidence of a lot of time spent at the gym. You had a navel piercing, a small bar with a little chain on it, maybe a quarter of an inch long. At the end of the chain was a tiny diamond. Below this, I saw that your pussy was shaved clean. A hint of your pussy lips showed between your legs. At the sight of that, I almost fucking fainted.

Standing there, almost naked myself, arms above my head, nipples exposed, stiff cock bobbing in midair, I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable, and the part of my mind that wasn't overcome with lust wondered what I was getting myself into. But mostly what I was thinking was: god damn I'm fucking horny as shit, and I'll do any damn thing this woman tells me to do, if only she'll get me off.

And in hindsight, I realize that's exactly what you'd intended. You would fuck me physically later - oh yes, my mouth and asshole would become your personal property soon enough - but right from that first encounter you had me deeply, intimately, and thoroughly mind-fucked. 

---

That first teasing session in your dressing room lasted maybe a half hour - tame compared to what would come later, but more than enough to ensure that I was thoroughly addicted to you. You caressed my ass, stroked my face, teased the backs of my knees - every sensitive area of my body you found and exploited. Except, of course, for my cock and balls. I was trembling, sweating, hands still pressed together above my head (because you had not told me I could do otherwise), my jaw clenched in the most intense sexual frustration I'd ever felt up to that time. Precum slid off the end of my throbbing dick in a continuous trickle and made a small puddle on the floor in front of me. Every time your soft, cool hands or your warm lips and tongue made contact with some part of me I shuddered with a mix of pleasure and agonizing need for release. At one point you focused on my tender nipples with your mouth for several minutes, going back and forth between them, licking, sucking, nibbling, and biting; and sheer overstimulation made me cry out involuntarily. This earned me a hard slap on my ass and a stern command to shut the fuck up. I did, and the teasing manual and oral caresses over my body continued until I thought I would scream or faint. 

Then, after an eternity, you stood back from me a step or two and looked down at my aching penis. I watched you with desperate hope, and my pulse raced when you smiled and knelt in front of me. You cupped one breast in your hand and lifted it so the nipple was almost touching my moist, slick cockhead. Then, very lightly, you grazed the nipple across my sensitized glans, once. I suppressed a loud moan, and it came through clenched teeth as a low whimper. You giggled. 

Then, I watched with disbelief as you licked your lips and lowered your mouth to within inches of my cock. You parted your lips slightly, and exhaled sweet, warm breath across the sweaty skin. My body trembled with aching pleasure at the sensation. You licked your lips lazily, looking up at me for a moment, then leaned in with your mouth open. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

What I felt instead of your gloriously warm mouth enveloping me was a very light, almost feathery caress of your fingernails down the length of my shaft to the base, and a little tickle of my balls, then...nothing. My eyes still closed, I heard you stand up and walk away.

"You can put your hands down now, babe," you said matter-of-factly. 

I lowered my trembling arms and opened my eyes. You were putting on the robe again, and unlocking the door.

I nearly wept with frustration and disappointment. My stiff and aching dick felt like it was ten feet long and twenty inches thick You must have seen my emotions written across my face like neon, because you smiled wickedly. 

"Something wrong, hon?"

I tried to speak and found my mouth too dry to utter more than a whisper. 

"I'm so fucking horny, ma'am."

Your mouth curved downward in a sarcastic little pout. 

"Awww, I'm sorry, baby. But time's up. I have places to go." 

You pointed at my clothes on the floor. 

"Put those on, and go. I'm sure you can take care of that-" she glanced at my twitching penis "-when you get home."

She began to open the dressing room door. I suddenly realized there were voices in the hallway outside, and here I was, butt naked with a monster hard-on. I quickly grabbed my shirt and pants and yanked them on as you swung the door open. People were passing back and forth outside.

"Will I see you again, ma'am?" I asked hesitantly. God, I fucking hoped so!

"You will," you said softly. "You're mine now, don't you know that?"

And I realized that I did know it.

Frustration Pt. 02



The next few weeks were an agony of suspense for me. 

Before I'd left your dressing room you'd told me to leave my phone number with the bartender, which I'd done. I didn't hear from you the next day, or the next, or the next. Days stretched into weeks. My life went on as usual, at least on the surface - work, gym, drinks with friends, the occasional date with someone I'd meet at a bar or in another department at work. But on the inside, I was boiling with tension, hoping you'd call. 

I went to more of your shows, of course - as many as I could. Each one was as good as, or better than, the one before, but to my inner dismay you didn't make any kind of eye contact with me or acknowledge that I was even there, although you must have seen me, since I made a point at every show to sit right up front. And, there were no more summons to your dressing room. That didn't surprise me. I'd known that was a one-time thing, kind of a get-to-know-you between domme and sub. But, I was disappointed that you didn't give me at least a glance or a wink while you were onstage. I began to wonder if the whole thing had been a joke, and that you had picked me at random that night out of the audience to toy with for a while, then drop.

My concerns were allayed about a month after the dressing room session, when my cell phone rang. The screen showed "private number" and I knew before I answered that it would be you. 

"Hello baby," you purred in my ear when I answered. My cock responded instantly, shifting in my pants at the sound of your voice. My heartbeat sped up a bit.

"Hello mistress," I said, somewhat hesitantly.

"Did you take care of yourself when you got home?"

I knew what she meant. And the answer was definitely yes - when I'd arrived back at my apartment I wasted little time in jacking my throbbing dick to a mind-bending orgasm. Afterwards, I'd collapsed on the bed, half-dressed, and fallen into a deep sleep.

"Yes, mistress," I said. "I had to. You left me with the biggest hard-on I've ever had."

You laughed quietly at this. "Did I? Good. And I'm glad you masturbated that night, because next time you won't be able to."

"What do you mean, mistress?" I asked, although I had a pretty good idea.

"Chastity, hon," you cooed. "During our next time together, I'm going to lock you in a beautiful little chastity device. It will prevent you from masturbating, or even having an erection." 

I swallowed, suddenly unable to speak. My head swam slightly at the thought of entering into a situation where you had total control over my cock. Part of me was pissed at you for suggesting it...but a bigger part was aroused by the thought.

"Are you there, babe?" you asked. 

"Yes," I managed to whisper. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good," you said, suddenly becoming businesslike. "Tomorrow night. My condo. Eight o'clock. Don't be one minute late or you'll find the door locked and me gone."

You hung up before I could ask you where you lived. But a few moments later I received a text, again from "private number", with an address in one of the swankier suburbs. 

When I put the phone down, I realized my cock and balls throbbed and ached, and just from a single phone conversation with you.

Fuck, I thought. What the fuck is happening to my head? 

-----

I made excuses the next day not to go out with coworkers for drinks, and was parked outside your condo by 7:45. I waited apprehensively, looking at your place and the surrounding neighborhood. Swanky was an understatement - you obviously had a lot of money coming in from somewhere. The neighborhood was a very trendy community probably built within the last ten years, with enormous yet tasteful homes, immaculate lawns, brick-paved streets, and old-fashioned gaslights lighting the sidewalks. There were Beemers, Porsches, and Cadillacs everywhere, and I even spotted a couple of Lamborghinis. 

I waited until 7:55, then got out of the car and walked up to your front door. I was about to push the doorbell when you opened the door.

"Hello, hon," you said affectionately. The small smile on your lips made me smile also, almost involuntarily, and I felt myself begin to turn red-faced under your direct gaze. 

You looked stunning. You were dressed to turn heads, with a skintight black dress that showed plenty of cleavage and ended about halfway down your thighs. On your feet you wore strappy black stilettos, and your long black hair was brushed perfectly straight and accentuated by a small pink flower near your left ear. Over one shoulder you carried a large black leather purse that looked like it could hold a lot more than your cell phone and makeup kit. I practically started drooling there on your front porch.

You smiled. "Come in, baby."

Inside, the house was as luxurious as it appeared on the outside. You led me to a large sitting area near the main door.

"Drop your pants," you ordered. 

There was no questioning the authority underneath your velvet voice. I undid my belt and let my jeans fall around my ankle. There was no hiding the erection that had started upon seeing you when you opened the door, and had only grown since - it bulged against the fabric of my boxers.

"Those too." You gestured at the boxer shorts.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, and slid them down. My cock bounced gently and twitched in the air. 

"Good boy," you said sweetly. You reached into your bag and brought out a small harness made of two thin black cords, one forming a circle and the other an arch between two sides of the circle. You went down on one knee and carefully fitted the harness over my cock; the arch was just long enough to allow the circle to rest around the base of my cockhead. The arch itself crossed over the tip of my dick, covering my hole. I watched as you took out a roll of black electrical tape, tore off a piece about six inches long, and wrapped it around the harness, holding it snugly in place. It wasn't clear what this little device was for, but I had a feeling I'd find out soon. 

Naturally, all of this contact from your smooth, cool fingers and sharp nails had my cock raging and aching, and a drop of precum had appeared, oozing out from under the harness. You frowned at this.

"I thought that might be a problem," you said, almost to yourself. Out of your bag you produced a small spray bottle filled with clear liquid.

Without any warning you spritzed the entire length of my dick. Shocking cold gripped the shaft in an icy hand. I yelped involuntarily.

"Fuck!" 

"Shut up," you said coolly, smiling at my discomfort. I did.

The cold had the desired effect, causing my hard-on to subside immediately. You then pulled one more item from your bag of tricks: a chastity cage. It was clear plastic, the only opening (besides the one that allowed the cage to be put on) a small slit across the tip to allow the wearer to urinate. You slipped the cage on and locked it with a miniature padlock, then put the key on a thin gold chain, which you fastened around your neck. I stared at the key with mingled apprehension and fascination as it dangled between your breasts.

"Put your pants back on, baby," you said. I did, zipping my harnessed and caged cock up inside my jeans. The hard plastic rubbed against my sensitive balls and cockhead, creating an irritating but somehow pleasurable friction. I felt my shaft begin to twitch again, and thought of how painful an erection would be inside the tiny cock cage.

You must have read my thoughts, because you stepped close to me, laid one hand lightly against the bulge in my jeans, and whispered in my ear.

"That's right, sweetie, no hard dick for you. If you do start to get hard, it will hurt like fucking hell."

You giggled wickedly and massaged my crotch. I couldn't feel your fingers because of the cage, but just the feeling of the cage itself being made to rub against my skin made my cock try to get harder inside the cramped little plastic box. Soon I could feel the shaft trying to bend against the shape of the cage and the head pushing against the plastic walls. A dull ache, entirely different from the pleasurable ache of being horny, began to pulse in my groin. I groaned quietly. 

You dipped into your bag again and held up a slim black rectangle, about the size of a stick of gum. The rectangle was featureless except for a single silver button set into one end. You ran your manicured thumb lightly over the button.

"I know you're wondering what that little black thing is for," you said. Actually, I had nearly forgotten about it, the gradually intensifying pain in my crotch occupying most of my attention.

But I said, "Yes, mistress, I did wonder."

"I'll show you."

You pressed the silver button.

------

I look back on that evening as the most tormenting, humiliating, and intensely erotic three hours of my entire life to that point. We did go out, to one of the classiest restaurants in town, the kind of place that doesn't even have a sign out front because the only way to get in is by knowing the right people. Which you clearly did, because we were seated at one of the best tables in the house, right in the middle of the crowded dining room, surrounded on all sides by well-groomed, well-dressed elites.  

And you had no doubt reserved that particular table precisely because it was right in the middle of everybody, on a night you knew would be a busy one, because you wanted to maximize my torment. You kept the black rectangle on the table next to your silverware, discreetly hidden under a silk napkin, and every few minutes you would slip a finger under the napkin and press the silver button. By the end of that evening my entire brain was consumed with watching your finger, and whether it was straying close to that napkin. I pleaded with you silently, my eyes wide and locked on yours, at one point even beginning to weep a little from sexual torment and embarrassment. 

The little black harness was an electro-stimulation toy; how it was powered I had no idea, because it didn't seem to have any batteries. The rectangle was a remote control for it. Every time you pressed that little button my entire cock, from tip to root, became enveloped in a million wickedly sharp, tiny little dancing fingernails that pulsed and pinched their way up and down my aching member. The mixture of pain and pleasure was excruciating beyond words. And it was all compounded by the goddamned cock cage you had me locked in, because the more my cock tried to fill with blood in response to the maddening electricity the more the hard cage walls squashed against it, cruelly twisting my bulging dick and throbbing balls. 

The torment would continue for as long as you held the button down, and would end with blessed sweet relief as soon as you released it. I was utterly at your mercy throughout the entire meal, which you deliberately made longer by taking your time ordering (you ordered for both of us - you had told me on the drive there that I was not to speak unless you gave me permission), eating, saying hello to people you knew, and generally prolonging what was, in essence, a very public sexual teasing session. Every time you turned the harness on and the pain/pleasure mix erupted through my cock and balls, it was all I could do to stifle a loud moan behind my hand or napkin. Several times I caught nearby patrons giving me strange looks, and I realized sweat was dripping down my forehead and my teeth were clenched in anticipation of the next time your finger would go under the napkin. I tried to force myself to relax, but by the time I had finished half of my lobster bisque my crotch was a continually pulsing mass of crushed flesh, held in by the hard, unyielding plastic.

I nearly sobbed with relief when you finally stood up. There was no check; this was the sort of place that kept discreet accounts for its regular patrons, relieving them of the awkward commonness of having to pay for something in front of others. I tried to stand as well, and the shifting of my bulging dick caused a fresh bolt of pain to shoot into my abdomen. I stumbled and caught the edge of the table.

"Are you all right?" asked an elderly woman at the next table, looking at me with concern.

I felt my face turning red. 

"I think so, thank you, just a leg cramp," I muttered, and limped away toward the main door where you were waiting impatiently. I saw your hand move, and the million fingernails, by now all too familiar, once again raced up and down my cock and balls. I suppressed a scream of pain and frustration and moved more quickly. 

"It's about fucking time," you whispered sweetly, showing me the remote in your right hand. Your finger caressed the silver button, the button I'd come to hate so much over the last three hours.

"Oh God, mistress, please don't," I begged softly.

"Be a good boy and I won't," you said.

But of course you did. You pressed the button at random moments throughout our entire drive back to your condo (as you'd done during the drive to the restaurant). You were driving, so there was no chance it would cause an accident, but by the time we reached your driveway I was a writhing, begging mass of sweaty agony in the passenger seat. 

"Come inside," you said as you got out. "We're just getting started tonight."

Somehow I rolled out of the car and staggered into the house after you. My legs could barely move, and every step caused the aching, swollen mass inside the cage to feel as if someone were gripping and twisting it like a corkscrew. 

Once inside, you produced a wide leather collar from your bag, and told me to kneel. I did, fearing you would use the remote control if I didn't obey immediately. 

You slipped the collar over my head and buckled it around my neck, snugging it down firmly but not tightly. The soft leather caressed the sensitive skin around my neck, and I closed my eyes, giving myself completely to the sensation of being collared by you. 

After a few moments I was brought back to reality by the sound of a metallic click. I opened my eyes.

You had attached a black leather leash, about five feet long, to the collar. 

"Stay on your hands and knees, and follow me."

I didn't have a choice. I crawled across the floor on hands and knees, you leading me with the leash, yanking on it when I fell behind. You led me through several hallways and up a long flight of stairs, which were agony for me to negotiate, and finally stopped outside a closed door.

"This is my bedroom," you said, looking down at my upturned face. "This is my private sanctuary. Do you know how lucky you are that I'm about to allow you in here?"

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, mistress."

"Good." You rested one hand on the doorknob. "Behind this door you will find the most intense sexual frustration you have ever dreamed of, baby." 

You smiled at me. I was hypnotized.

"This is your last chance. Once you enter this room there's no going back."

God, just open the door and take me inside, I begged silently.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"If you decide to come into my bedroom, the first thing I will do is remove your chastity cage." You smiled darkly. "But you may end up wishing I hadn't."

"I understand mistress," I said, and at last gave in to my inner need. "Please, mistress, oh God, please let me in," I begged, looking up at your exotic face with pleading eyes. "Please take me. Please tease me all you want, make me beg to cum, make me lick my own cum off the floor, anything."

You nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned the knob.

I soon learned that I didn't understand a damned thing about what it meant to be teased and denied by someone like you, someone who had complete mastery of the male body and male mind, and the skill and intelligence to use that knowledge to maximum effect. I quickly learned that I had no fucking clue what I had gotten into and had strayed into waters that were way over my head.

But who knew it could feel so good to drown?



Frustration Pt. 03



The rest of that evening passed in a haze of sexual torment and sweet agony of submission, teasing, and denial. You stripped out of your evening dress to reveal a skimpy little black thong and matching black mesh half-cup bra - your outfit for the rest of that evening, one that drove me mad with lust, watching helplessly as you paraded your long legs, tight ass and big firm boobs in front of me. You had me bound tightly, face up, on your bed, spread-eagled, to give you full access to all of my most sensitive areas. I lost count of the number of times you brought me to the trembling edge of orgasm, there in your luxurious bedroom, bound and helpless to resist your tender caresses, sharp slaps, tickling fingernails, and all the rest of the weapons you employed as you inducted me into the world of true, mind-bending sexual denial. My voice echoed through your house as I cried out again and again for release - God, I begged for you to let me cum, I begged over and over, weeping tears of frustration more than once that night, promising to do or say anything you wanted, if you would just wrap your sweet fingers around my thick shaft and jerk it hard until I came. 

Each time I begged, you teased even more cruelly and sensually, at one point even lowering your fragrant pussy onto my face while I was tied to your bed. My nose and mouth were filled with the deliciously intoxicating scent of your juices, which were flowing freely as you got off on my suffering. I wanted so badly to tongue-fuck you, to lick and suck your beautiful, hard little clit, to probe your shaved pussy lips and listen to you moan with pleasure. But no - you are a cruel teasing bitch, and you had fixed a ball gag firmly in my mouth. That sweet cunt was so close yet so far away, and as you gyrated and ground it against my face, you giggled wickedly at my feeble attempts to work my mouth against your flesh through the gag, and my muffled moans and grunts of frustration. 

My cock and balls received very little attention from you that night - just an occasional caress or tickle, or even a light stroke up and down the shaft with your loosely circled thumb and forefinger, just to make sure I was still "interested," as you put it. I lived for these moment, I prayed silently during each long tease that you would have mercy and touch my cock, even for a moment, with your fingertips, nails, lips, hair, anything. One of your more cruel techniques was to do things like you'd done in your dressing room that first time: make me think you were going to pleasure me, do everything you could to convince me that it was for real this time, then pull away at the very last moment, laughing, ass swinging, strutting across to the other side of the bedroom to stand and watch as I begged and pleaded and moaned in disappointed agony. 

Finally, you announced to me that it was time for me to go by giving my cock and balls a brief, tight squeeze with one hand, making me groan loudly, and releasing me from my restraints and ordering me to get dressed. Of course, despite my pleading and begging throughout the evening, you had not allowed me to cum. As I reached for my clothes and reluctantly began to pull my boxers on over my stiff cock, you told me to wait. You retrieved the spray bottle you had used on me earlier that evening, along with the cock cage, now sticky on the inside with my dried precum and sweat. 

At the sight of these objects my eyes filled with tears of frustration - I couldn't help it.

"Oh, fuck, mistress, please, no..." I whispered. 

"Shut the fuck up," you cooed sweetly, smiling. "Or you will never see me again."

The thought of that was worse than the cock cage, so I stayed quiet as you sprayed my dick mercilessly until it was semi-soft, then stuffed it into the cage and locked it up tightly. You dangled the key in front of my tear-streaked face before slipping it, on its chain, over your neck again where it hung tantalizingly between your beautiful tits. You noticed me staring, and moved very close to me, stripping off your bra and cupping your boobs in both hands, jiggling them a little. You gently pinched your hard little nipples, and gasped softly with pleasure. 

"Wouldn't you love to titty-fuck these?" you whispered, jiggling them again. "Lube up my cleavage with a little baby oil, and slide that big dick of yours right in here?"

You let some saliva dribble into your cleavage, and rubbed it around sensually with one finger. 

"Mmmmm..." you purred. "Nice, hard cock between my boobs..." You closed your eyes, as if imagining the scene.

This was having exactly the effect you wanted - my cock was trying to become erect again, inside the goddamned cage, and it fucking hurt as much as it had earlier. The sensation that my genitals were being crushed in a fist began to come back, and I bent over involuntarily, trying to ease the pain.

You immediately went into bitch mode, dropping your tits and giving me a sharp slap on the cheek. 

"Stand up straight, and put your fucking clothes on."

I gasped at the slap, and said, "Yes mistress."

Within a few seconds I was fully dressed, my jeans zipped over the bulging cock cage, my groin sending bolts of pain into my abdomen. 

"Good," you said curtly. "Now go."

You pointed at the bedroom door. I hesitated, earning myself another hard slap, this time on my ass. Even through my jeans, it stung. You were stronger than your slender frame suggested. 

"Go," you said again, your exotic face darkening.

I wanted desperately to ask when I would see you again, and when you would release me from the cock cage. But I knew speaking again would be a bad idea. So I hurried out of your bedroom, my head spinning with tormented, frustrated sexual need and my tortured cock burning and aching like fire.

I spent the rest of that night desperately trying to find some may to ease the pain in my groin and maybe even give myself some kind of sexual release. I dug my fingers around the base of the cock cage, I tried to slip one finger through the slit in the tip, and I even tried using a Q-tip to massage my frenulum through the slit. Nothing worked. The cage was designed to prevent any sort of sexually satisfying contact with the imprisoned penis and balls, and it was cruelly effective. There was also no way in hell I would be able to take it off, not without ripping my balls off in the process. When the next morning came I woke up slumped in a chair in the small living room of my apartment, not even realizing I'd fallen asleep trying to find some relief from the cage.

I didn't hear from you that day, or the next, or the next. I had no choice but to wear the cage everywhere, all day and all night. Every hour that passed without a text or a call from you made me more desperate, more certain that you'd played a cruel trick on me and weren't going to make contact again, much less release me from chastity. I began to have visions of a humiliating trip to the emergency room to have the cage taken off. 

By the time two weeks had gone by, I was a walking wreck. My work suffered; my social life practically disappeared; I couldn't even look at attractive women without the threat of throbbing, twisting pain in my cock and balls. It felt like an eternity since you had locked the cage onto me, and despite the suffering it caused, a small, secret part of me, a part I didn't want to acknowledge at the time, was finding perverse pleasure in being locked in chastity. The chafing and rubbing of the hard plastic against my skin made it turn raw and red, but somehow it also felt good. In hindsight, thinking about it now, I realize I was beginning to fully understand and accept what it meant to submit to you, and to derive pleasure from knowing that my suffering was pleasing you. 

But fuck, my cock needed relief!

---

Finally, almost three weeks since our night out, I got a text from "private number." It consisted of a date, a time, and an address. Nothing else. 

I was at work when the text came, and I had to close my office door when I read it, because I nearly cried with relief. Maybe you would let me out of the cage - I hoped like hell you would. In fact, I knew right then that I would be begging, groveling, whatever it took to convince you to use your key to release my tormented cock. I didn't care what humiliation or degradation you required - I would do anything, and I knew it.

The date you sent was the following evening. I got home from work that day, showered, and dressed to go out, my heart racing the entire time. I googled the address, and saw it was a high-end dance club across town, a small place called Jump. I wondered what you had in store as I made the drive there - more public embarrassment? Another session with the electrostim cock harness? Whatever it was, I was willing, if it meant freedom from my plastic prison.

I pulled up outside the club a few minutes before the time you had specified, and a well-dressed valet immediately approached and took the keys from me. As he drove my car off, somebody spoke from close by.

"Hi, baby."

Your silky voice was sweet music to my ears. I turned, and there you were, on the sidewalk a few feet away, delectably hot in a micro-mini club dress and knee-high stiletto boots. As always, your cleavage was on full display. You wore the key to my cage on the same thin chain between your tits.

You walked up close to me and pressed a hand gently against my crotch. I winced and sucked in breath.

"Mmmmmm," you whispered close by my ear, resting your other hand lightly on my neck and scratching delicately with your nails. "Now who locked you up in this mean little chastity cage, baby?" Your voice became faux-pouty. "That was so not nice, whoever it was."

"Yes, ma'am," was all I could manage. Between the light pressure on my crotch and the nails stroking my neck, my head was feeling swimmy. 

"I bet that poor little dick of yours is just crying to get out," you purred. "Is it, baby? Does your dick want to come out and play? Hmmmm?"

"Oh, god yes, mistress, please..."

Until that moment, I hadn't fully realized just how badly I needed sexual release. My eyes filled with tears, and my face burned with embarrassment. The sidewalk was busy, and we were in plain view.

"Ooooh, poor baby." You gave my crotch a gentle tug. "Mean little chastity cage. Mean mistress."

I moaned. 

"Come on inside, sweetie," you said, releasing my groin and taking my hand. "You'll get out of that mean little cage tonight, I promise. And it is going to feel so, so good." 

I nearly fainted with hope and relief. I let you lead me by the hand into the darkness of the dance club.

--

You led me through the doors, past the bouncer, a huge bald man who seemed to know you. He nodded at us as we passed, and you blew him a little kiss. Inside, the club was in full swing, the dance floor crowded with people. A song that was mostly synth beats and unintelligible auto-tuned lyrics blasted from the sound system, making the room vibrate and sending thudding sub-woofer pulses through my chest. You weaved your way across the room, with me in tow, and found a small table on the other side. We sat down. 

You leaned over and put your lips next to my ear - it was the only way to be heard over the music and voices. 

"We're going to have a couple of drinks, baby," you said. "There are some friends I want you to meet, before we get down to business."

"Yes, mistress," I said submissively, not wanting to do or say anything that might piss you off and ruin my chances of release. "Whatever you like, ma'am."

"Good boy."

You nibbled my earlobe playfully, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. 

A few minutes later you were sipping a mai tai and me a beer, when three people walked up to the table. Two of them were impossibly beautiful women, each on one arm of the third, a young guy who looked like he had come straight from a Calvin Klein magazine spread. The women were dressed like you, in tight minidresses and stilettos, and the man had on a crisp white shirt and dark slacks, his hair short and styled perfectly. You stood up, smiling radiantly.

"Julie! Michelle! And Todd!" you gushed, hugging and air-kissing all three of them. "How are you?"

The threesome sat down. You did not introduce me, and your three friends did not so much as look at me, as you exchanged small talk with them. I quickly felt like a fifth wheel, and knew that this was deliberate - you wanted me to feel embarrassed and uncomfortable, the outsider in a small, intimate group whose members knew each other well. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you pointed at me.

"Ok, so this is the guy I've been telling you about," you said with a smile. Everyone turned to look at me. The realization that you'd been talking to your friends about me shouldn't have come as a surprise, but for some reason it did. My face flushed, and I took a long swallow of my beer to avoid everyone's gazes. Even as I wondered how much detail you'd told them about our teasing sessions, I felt my cock, which had softened in its cage and eased the perpetual aching, begin to react. It began to press lightly against the plastic. Fuck, I thought. This is actually turning me on. What the fuck is wrong with me?

But of course I knew the answer: my submissive side was running things inside my head now, and any sort of tease or humiliation or discomfort, as long as you were the cause of it, was an automatic sexual trigger.

You told them my name, and all three of your friends smiled at me. In particular, Julie, the blonde, gave me an appreciative look and a sexy little air-kiss from across the table. 

"He's pretty cute," she said to you. "Does he have a big dick?"

Everyone laughed. 

"Yes, he does," you said, looking me straight in the eye with a wicked smile. "It's fucking huge. I love feeling it stretch my pussy and asshole. Right, baby?" 

You fucking bitch, I thought. We both knew we hadn't fucked, and you were toying with me. You knew perfectly well that this dirty talk in front of strangers was getting me hard, and was making my cock throb with pain inside the vicious little plastic box fastened around it. 

I nodded. "Yes."

I felt a sharp kick to one of my shins under the table, and I yelped with pain and surprise. Your smile had disappeared, and you were looking at me with an angry expression.

"What the fuck did you say?" 

Your friends giggled.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, realizing my mistake.

"Better." Your smile reappeared like magic. 

"So that's how it is," said Todd, looking at me with an odd expression. It was a mixture of disdain and...something else I couldn't put my finger on. "You've got yourself another pet."

I wanted to jump and run like hell out of there. But my fucking cock loved it - it bulged and squeezed inside its prison.

"Yes, I do," you purred, back to sweet mode, gently stroking my leg with the tip of your boot under the table. "And we do have a lot of fun together. Don't we?"

"Yes, mistress," I mumbled.

"What?" you said sharply.

"Yes, mistress!" I said more loudly. Everyone around the table laughed at this. 

We sat there for a while longer. I remained silent while you and your friends chatted, no longer paying any attention to me, and I knew you were dragging this out, just as you had done at the restaurant, to prolong my discomfort and get me more aroused. Finally you got up.

"We have something we need to take care of, don't we?" you said sweetly, looking at me. 

"Yes, ma'am," I answered. The thought of imminent release for my dick made my heart race. 

"Yes, we do." You hugged and air-kissed again, and your three friends departed. Julie gave me a little wink over her shoulder as she walked away.

You laughed. "I think Julie likes you, baby! She's pretty fucking hot, isn't she?"

"Yes she is, mistress," I answered quickly. "But not as hot as you."

You caressed my cheek with your manicured nails. "So sweet. Come on, follow me. I have something really special planned for you."



Frustration Pt. 04



We left the table and walked to the back of the club, and entered a small, narrow hallway. There were doors on both sides. Some of them were open, and inside I could see small rooms outfitted with comfortable furniture and lit with soft lighting. Behind some of the closed doors I could hear low moans, whispers, and the occasional scream of pleasure. 

"In here," you said, pointing to one of the open doors. I entered, and you followed me in, closing and locking the door. 

"Now, shall we remove that mean, mean little cage?" You gave me a sexy, pouty expression.

"Yes, mistress, please," I begged in a whisper. "Please take it off." The worst pain I had ever felt since being locked in chastity had my cock and balls clenched in an iron fist - the conversation at the table and the knowledge that the cage would be off soon had combined to give me what would have been a monster, raging erection...if the fucking cage hadn't been there.

"Strip," you ordered.

Within a minute, I was naked except for the cage.

You slipped the chain from around your neck and fondled the key with your slim fingers, tracing its length with one nail. You touched my face with the key; I felt the cool metal and sucked in my breath. You smiled and dragged the key slowly down my cheek, down my neck, and across my chest, flicking a nipple with it. You continued down the middle of my stomach to the skin just above the cock cage. At this point you were down on one knee, and I looked down helplessly as you gently stroked the walls of the cage with the key, occasionally tapping on the hard plastic. This made me groan loudly as the vibrations pulsed through my bulging dick.

The mass of flesh inside the cage was purple and bruised-looking. The skin around the base of the cage was red and raw, slick with Vaseline that I'd been using for weeks to keep the chafing from becoming unbearable. My balls hung like pendulums, aching and pulsing. 

"Ooooh, poor baby!" you cooed, looking at my tortured dick. "This looks like it hurts!" You tapped the cage again.

"Oh, God..." I moaned. "Please, mistress...please let me out...I'll do anything..." I closed my eyes, preparing myself mentally to endure the additional torment and teasing that was sure to come.

But suddenly, I was free.

You had slipped the key into the tiny padlock, and with a small click, the cage fell away and clattered to the floor. My cock sprang out, and I nearly screamed; having been trapped for so long made the feeling of sudden release almost as painful as it was glorious. My knees buckled, and I slumped onto a chair. My breath escaped in a long, low sigh.

It felt fucking amazing. Even the slightest movement of air across my newly freed cock was heavenly. I reached down to touch it. It was so sensitive that even the lightest contact was like electricity.

You knelt in front of the chair. "I know baby," you said, seeming almost genuinely sympathetic. "It hurts, doesn't it? But doesn't it feel good to be out of that cage?"

I nodded. "Oh, fuck yes, mistress, it feels so good."

"Mmmmmmm. I thought so."

And with that, you took my shaft very gently between your fingers and began to massage it, very delicately at first, then more firmly as it began to return to something like its normal shape and color. I laid my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, losing myself in the feeling of your cool fingers babying my dick, nursing it back to health. You didn't forget my balls, either: the hand that wasn't working my cock slipped around them and kneaded lightly.

After a few minutes of this, you stopped and stood up. A low whine of disappointment escaped my lips.

"Don't worry, sweetie," you said, holding out your hand. "We're not done yet."

I took your hand and stood up on shaky legs. My cock was hard again, thanks to your attention, and not having my erection squashed inside the chastity cage anymore was pure, sweet relief. 

You led me to the back of the little room, where a full-length mirror hung on the wall. You stood me in front of it. I looked in the mirror at my cock, bobbing in the air in front of me, twitching slightly.

"Do you want to cum, baby?" you asked with a smile, looking over my shoulder into my face in the mirror.

"Yes, mistress, you know I do," I answered, hearing a pleading note in my own voice. "I want to cum, mistress. Please."

You nodded, satisfied, then to my surprise you removed the mirror from the wall.

Behind it was a small hole, about three feet off the floor and maybe three inches across. The hole was rimmed with soft black velvet. 

It was a gloryhole.

At the sight of it, my cock grew even stiffer and my balls began to ache. 

"Yes, I want you to put your dick in there," you said. "But first, you should know something. On the other side of this wall is one of the people you met tonight, one of my friends. This particular friend of mine finds you...appealing."

You grasped my shaft in one hand. It felt so fucking good I could hardly breathe.

"This individual is exceptionally good at oral sex," you continued, gently tugging on my cock and forcing me closer to the gloryhole. 

"Which one is it?" I asked, although I had a pretty good idea already.

"Mmmmm, no, baby, I'm not going to tell you that. That would take away half the fun, don't you think?"

"Yes, mistress," I said. 

In fact, I didn't give a shit who it was. The thought of having my dick sucked, after all those weeks of teasing and chastity, pushed all other cares out of my head completely. You didn't need to give me any encouragement - I stood up against the wall and slipped my raging erection through the hole while you stood aside and watched.

A moment later a soft, gentle hand wrapped itself around my shaft, and another cupped my balls. A slow stroking began, fingers dragging the skin of my cock slowly up and down, up and down, as the other hand massaged my throbbing balls. I could feel precum begin to ooze from the tip, and a thumb slipped over it, and soon my cock was slick with it. This continued for a few minutes, and I began to wonder, in the part of my brain that wasn't occupied with pure pleasure, if this was just another tease.

I soon learned that it wasn't. 

Ecstasy exploded in my brain as a soft, wet, warm mouth enveloped my cockhead and slid slowly down my shaft, until my entire length was deep-throated in moist velvet.. Tight lips sucked greedily at the base of my cock and a tongue probed and massaged my head and frenulum. The soft and gentle friction made me dizzy with pleasure. 

And there was something else, too - within the softness of the tongue and lips was something hard and sharp, but very small, small enough so that it was not painful to feel it dragging along my shaft, but only heightened the mind-bending sensations. I quickly realized that it was some kind of tongue piercing, something with a sharp little point on top. Something like that, I knew, could only have been designed for enhancing oral sex. And fuck me, it sure as hell did. Every stroke of the tongue up and down my dick was accompanied by a little zing of metal, making the hairs on my neck and arms stand on end and sending tingles of pleasure through my body. 

"Ohhhhh, fuck..." I groaned.

You laughed softly. I had almost forgotten you were there, lost as I was in the sensations being delivered by the person on the other side of the wall. "Are you enjoying that, sweetie?"

I could only nod, my eyes squeezed shut. This time, you didn't seem to care that I didn't address you properly. You were enjoying this almost as much as I was.

The sucking went on and on and on for what felt like hours. I began to get a mental picture of Julie, the blonde, kneeling on the other side of the hole, naked, gorgeous body on full display, my dick sliding in and out of her mouth. It had to be her, I thought dimly, remembering the flirty air-kiss and the wink. This picture edged me closer to orgasm; I felt my balls swelling with cum, my balls that had been denied for so long, and my cock seemed to grow so big it filled my entire consciousness. My entire body became an enormous penis, every nerve ending focused on the intense pleasure radiating from my groin. 

At some point, unable to control it, I began to beg. I was unable to stop myself from groveling and whining and pleading to be allowed to cum. My need was so desperate that I heard myself saying every humiliating and degrading thing that came to mind, calling myself a pathetic bitch, a man-whore, a filthy little slave. And in those moments, I meant every word. I would be all of those things and more, if only the beautiful creature on the other side of the wall would bring me the orgasm I craved so badly.

Then, suddenly, the pace of the sucking increased, and I felt a finger slip trough the gloryhole beneath my balls and press firmly on my perineum. The deep, throbbing ache in my cock and balls cycled up to a burning intensity that was nearly unbearable. My breath stopped and my body went rigid as iron. The sucking became urgent, the pressure from the finger unendurable, the metallic zing from the tongue piercing a sizzling electrical current up and down the skin of my cock. 

Then, I screamed.

I screamed for mercy as an orgasm as huge as a tidal wave burst through me, threatening to tear me to pieces, or drive me insane, or both. My balls clenched, my shaft exploded, and what felt like gallons of cum erupted from my aching body. The sucking mouth did not leave my dick, but instead continued sucking, greedily swallowing every warm jet that pulsed up from my balls and out of my cockhead. The orgasm seemed to go on and on, and I kept screaming, and became certain I would pass out before it was over. 

I was right.



Frustration Pt. 05



I woke up slumped on the floor, naked, my cock flaccid, the memory of that incredible orgasm still fresh in my mind. You were still there, lounging on a comfortable chair, legs crossed, one stiletto heel dangling, watching me with a mix of amusement and affection. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," you said.

I shook my head to clear it, and stood up slowly. My groin area felt...drained. That's the only word to describe it. It felt like a deflated balloon. But it was glorious, after weeks of denial and chastity.

"What the fuck happened?" I asked, and seeing your sharp glance, quickly added "mistress."

"Baby, you came like a fucking firehose. It was amazing. In fact, it got me so turned on I had to get my little vibrator in on the action." You showed me a small silver dildo. "Come over here."

I obeyed, my cock hanging limply between my legs.

"Kneel," you ordered. I did, and you extended the dildo to my mouth. "Suck it clean."

"Yes, mistress," I said, and took the slim metal shaft into my mouth. It tasted like your pussy, something I was familiar with from having been teased with it several times. I sucked and slurped greedily, licking the entire length.

"Good boy," you said, apparently satisfied. "Did you enjoy the gloryhole, sweetie?" You locked your eyes with mine, and I stared into your eyes, those deep, dark, slightly uptilted eyes that could hypnotize me in seconds.

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, mistress, very much. It was absolutely incredible. I've never felt anything like it before."

"I told you my friend is very skilled at oral sex," you said. "Was I wrong?" You caressed my upturned face gently with your fingernails.

"No, mistress, no, you were right," I answered. "She was incredibly good."

At this you gave me a small, cryptic smile, and took my chin in one hand and drew my face very close to yours. I could smell your perfume, the same musk that you had worn that night in your dressing room, and it made my head swim a little like it had then. You brought your lips against mine, and before I could even think you had me locked in a deep and passionate kiss. Your lips parted and your tongue coiled into my mouth, probing deeply, delicately tasting me. I returned the favor, and you did not object.

We stayed this way for a while, I don't know how long, before you abruptly broke the kiss, leaving me kneeling on the floor with my mouth half open and my eyes closed. I felt like an idiot, and my face turned red.

"Now get dressed," you ordered. "Zip up that limp dick so I don't have to see it anymore."

My embarrassment deepened, enhanced by the contrast between the kiss and your sudden bitchiness. It left me confused and aroused at the same time. 

My clothes were still piled on the floor where I'd left them, and I quickly pulled them on. As I did, I noticed my cock was not quite so limp. I wouldn't have thought it was possible after that monster orgasm, but I was actually getting the beginnings of a hard-on. 

Of course you noticed this. 

"Looks like somebody else is waking up," you said, switching back into sweet mode. "Good, that means you'll be ready for later."

Later? I thought, but didn't say. The last few weeks had been sheer torment, humiliation, and degradation, and part of me had loved it, had wallowed in it. But now that I had finally been granted the sexual release I had needed so badly, I wasn't sure I wanted to start the game all over again. 

You seemed to read my mind as you stood by the door, watching me get dressed.

"You have a decision to make, baby," you said. "Is this it, or are we going to go further?"

I wasn't sure how to respond.

You smiled and moved close to me, resting your hand on my crotch and squeezing gently. I drew in my breath sharply. Fuck, but your hands always knew what to do to me.

"It's OK, you don't have to decide now," you whispered in my ear. "I'll give you until noon tomorrow."

You stood up, hand on hips, looking me up and down. 

"If you want to see more of me after tonight, text me and say 'I'm a denial-addicted little man-bitch who can't get enough of his cruel, teasing mistress.' Got it, baby? Anything else, and I'll ignore it and you will never, ever, ever see me again." You blew me a pouty little kiss.

With that you turned, unlocked the door, and were gone. 

------------

Of course, I wanted more. I fucking needed more.

It wasn't even a decision, really, at least not one I made then. It had been made weeks before, in your dressing room, on the night of that first glorious teasing session. It seemed tame now, in comparison to what you'd put me through since, but I'd come to think of it as some kind of kinky honeymoon, a sweet little memory that set the stage for bigger things to come.

I texted you the next morning, and my message was exactly what you had told me it should be. I'm a denial-addicted little man-bitch who can't get enough of his cruel, teasing mistress."

After I pressed SEND, I reread the message, and realized every word of it was fucking true. Every single word. I loved being teased and denied by you, I craved it, I thought about it constantly. I could no longer imagine life without it, and without you. You had somehow known about a need I had, one I hadn't even known about myself: the need to have my sexuality controlled completely by an aggressive, intelligent, and sensual woman. You had filled that need and I had come to depend on you, and what you did to me, like you were air and water. I was lost in you.

These thoughts occupied me while I waited to hear back from you. An hour passed, then two, then three. I worried that I had gotten the message wrong, that I had misremembered what you had instructed me to say. Should have written it down, I thought. Fuck. I knew you meant it when you said I needed to get the message right or I would never hear from you again. As the hours passed that day, it began to seem like that's exactly what was happening. I had fucked it up, and even now you were out with your sexy, stylish friends, having a good time, already forgetting I even existed. I felt a mixture of despair and anger that left me helpless. I fell asleep that night on the small couch in my apartment, watching porn on cable and thinking about you.

I was awakened by the little ping of my phone telling me a text had come in. It was late morning, and I was three hours late for work. I didn't give a fuck, because the text was from you.

"Good boy," it said. "Hope you didn't mind waiting to hear back, baby. I had some other things to do before I had time to think about you. But your message was so sweet! You got it exactly right."

As I read this, I could almost hear you speaking the words in your faux-sweet voice, the one I'd heard so many times before. My relief at getting your message washed away the feelings from the night before. 

A minute later another text from you arrived. "10:00 tonite. My place. Make sure your cock is nice and hard when you get here."

---------------

I got there right at 10, with a rock-hard dick, as instructed. It wasn't difficult. The thought of seeing you, of being teased and tormented by you again, gave me a massive erection that lasted most of the day. By the time I knocked on your door it had begun to ache badly, along with my swollen balls.

You opened the door and brought me inside without a word. You had a stern look that made my heart beat a little faster – what did you have in store for me? Without a word you took my hand and led me quickly upstairs and into your bedroom. It was dim in there, lit only by a few scented candles. The sight of the room where previous teasing sessions had taken place made my cock throb even harder with anticipation. A light sweat broke out on my forehead.

Then I noticed a new item, one that had definitely not been there last time I'd visited: a large black padded X-cross, attached to a wide base and placed in the middle of the room. A fifth, smaller arm extended from the "V" of the cross upward, for the victim's head. The arms of the cross were studded with straps, probably two dozen in all, including one for the head. I swallowed hard, knowing full well that I would be on that cross soon enough.

"Strip."

This was the first word you'd spoken to me, and I obeyed instantly. In a moment I stood fully naked in the doorway to the bedroom, erection twitching gently, a small drop of precum already forming at the tip of my cock.

You smiled now, a warm and radiant smile that changed your entire demeanor instantly. My head swam a little, and I trembled slightly as you walked slowly up to me and stood just a few inches in front of my cockhead. You wore a sexy business-casual miniskirt and tight blouse, your hair in waves that tumbled down your back and your lips lightly glossed a pale red. You looked into my eyes, and as your gaze pulled me in, I felt a light, feathery caress on my shaft. Your fingernails gently tickled my entire length, from root to tip, slowly swabbing my precum around my sensitive glans. Your thumbnail found my frenulum and massaged it, making me moan softly with pleasure. 

Without stopping the cock massage, you began to speak to me in a soft, sweet voice.

"Oh, baby, we've had such fun together," you said. "So much teasing, so much denial, so much sweet torment." 

I nodded, completely unable to speak, the feel of your expert fingers softly working my penis occupying every conscious thought.

"I've got a very special surprise planned for you tonight," you continued, still gazing into my eyes, still smiling, and still massaging. "Mmmmmmm. Want to know what it is?"

"Yes, mistress," I whispered huskily. I was sure it had to do with the bondage cross...but I was wrong.

"Tonight, I'm going to let one of my friends...borrow you," you said with a low giggle. "I'm going to loan you out, baby."

Your fingers gave my cockhead a little squeeze, and I felt your other hand slip around my balls and begin kneading them. "What do you think of that idea?"

I could tell from your expression that you weren't joking about this, not that you had ever joked about anything you said you were going to do to me. 

"I don't know, mistress," I murmured, and I wasn't lying. The pleasure you were giving my cock and balls was making it damned hard to think about much of anything.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway," you said. "You don't really have a choice." You paused, thinking. "Well, you do have a choice, but if you say no, I think you know what the consequences will be." You squeezed my balls briefly, making me wince. 

"Yes, mistress," I said. 

"What will happen if you say no to being loaned out?" you asked sweetly. "Tell me."

"I will never see or hear from you again, ma'am. You will forget all about me."

You nodded, pleased. "Exactly right. And for getting it right, you get a little treat."

You knelt in front of me, your beautiful mouth only inches from my purple cockhead. 

"Do you want a treat?" you asked, looking up at me.

"Oh, God, yes, mistress," I whispered. You hadn't stopped the cock and ball massage. "So bad."

"Beg for it." 

"Please, please, mistress," I said, hearing a whining tone in my voice and being unable to stop it. "Oh, God, please give me a treat. I really need it, ma'am."

You gently stroked one fingernail around the base of my cockhead. I nearly screamed with frustration. "Tell me what you are."

The words flooded from my mouth. "I'm a little man-whore, mistress. I'm a pathetic slave who needs to be teased and denied, ma'am. You own me, you own my cock and my balls and my orgasms." I was breathing fast and hard, wanting so badly to thrust my hips forward and try to fuck your hand. I knew if I tried that, though, you would just leave me humping thin air.

"That's right," you replied. You seemed satisfied, and I hardly dared to hope. You had taunted me so many times with promises of blowjobs and titfucks and handjobs that I didn't really think this time would be any different.

Then...oh fuck, then you leaned forward, lips parted, tongue extended, and very softly and slowly licked around my dripping cockhead. I moaned with delirious pleasure, and my knees almost buckled.

You kept licking, very slowly, around and around the head, over the top, licking up precum, swirling your tongue across my hypersensitive frenulum. You kept this up for several long minutes, prolonging the sweet torment, and I realized at one point that I was speaking, begging incoherently for sexual release, to be allowed the privilege of cumming in your mouth. The tingling pleasure you were sending down the length of my shaft and into my balls was exquisite but agonizingly unsatisfying. A deep ache began to spread in the root of my cock. 

Suddenly, with no warning, you sucked the entire length of my dick into your mouth, all the way down to my balls. The swollen head touched the back of your throat. I cried out with surprise as I felt your lips lock tightly around the base of the shaft. The tip of your nose was pressed against my lower abdomen. You purred and hummed, making delicious vibrations. It felt fucking incredible, being buried deep in the warm wetness, your tongue massaging the shaft, your lips sucking at me. The ache changed to a more urgent pressure, the pressure of cum building in my balls and beginning to push up my cock. My eyes were squeezed shut, and I was sweating and panting like a marathoner. My body was rigid. It wasn't quite enough; I needed movement, friction, sliding, before I could reach the orgasm I craved so badly.

But you would not move. You remained still, my cock deep in your throat, buried there like a stake driven into the ground, refusing me the last push I needed. I cried out in frustration.

"Fuck, mistress, please!!" I begged. "Please make me cum!"

Then, involuntarily, out of sheer frustration, I started trying to fuck your throat, my hips thrusting forward. My eyes still closed, I suddenly felt my cock bobbing in the cool air. Your mouth was gone.

"Mmmmm," you purred, standing up. "No cumming. Not yet."

Something between a scream and a moan escaped my lips. Then my knees gave way and I collapsed to the floor. Tears of anguish leaked from my eyes. I couldn't help it.

You stood over me, smiling, enjoying my torture. All I could see of you from the floor were your black high heels and your sheer stockings.

"Get up," you said, becoming bitchy. "Get up off the fucking floor and come over here."

You walked across the room to the cross.

"Stand up against this."

Somehow I found my feet and moved over to you. As you had ordered, I stood with my bare back and ass pressed against the soft black leather of the bondage cross, legs spread, arms up. You fastened each strap up and down the arms of the cross, so I was spread-eagled and naked, my huge erection on full display, pulsing and twitching. You went behind me and pulled my head back firmly against the small vertical arm, and fastened the strap tightly around my forehead. My arms, legs, and head were completely immobilized; I had never felt so totally helpless and vulnerable. It was deeply erotic, and I felt the pressure in my balls swell a little more.

Standing in front of me, you couldn't resist giving my cock a little more teasing with one hand. Scratching it lightly with your nails, stroking it with a feathery touch, caressing it with your open palm – you knew by now exactly how and where to touch me to produce the most torment. I frantically tried to hump your hand, but the straps held me tight. 

After just a few moments of this you stopped, and retrieved something out of a dresser against one wall. My eyes widened when I saw what it was – a huge dildo gag, made of two black rubber cocks, one long and the other short and thick with a large head. Without a word, you forced my mouth open and inserted the short side, pushing it all the way in. I felt its veiny barrel-shaped shaft filling the inside of my mouth completely, the bulbous head nearly to the back of my throat. It forced me to keep my mouth open wide. You cinched it firmly into place.

The long end jutted out from my face humiliatingly, and I flushed with embarrassment as you watched my obvious discomfort. Saliva began to leak out around the gag, and I started drooling helplessly. You laughed at this, heightening my embarrassment and jacking up my arousal even more. I moaned around the thick cock gag as I felt the aching pleasure in my groin grow even stronger.

Then, in the final torment, you came up close to my face and slid your lips slowly and sensually around the head of the dildo. You began to give it a blowjob, a real blowjob, the thing you had denied me earlier. I could only watch with mounting frustration as you slid your mouth up and down the ridged length of the huge black rubber dick, eyes closed as if lost in pleasure, little purring sounds coming from your throat. You slid all the way to the end, so only the head was still between your lips, and began to suck on that, deliberately making slurping suction noises. A low whine came from my throat.

This went on for several minutes, and by the time you were done teasing me my entire cock was slippery with oozing precum. I could even feel it trickling down my balls. Then you pulled away with a cruel little giggle at my obvious suffering and pleading eyes.

"Just one more thing," you said, and walked around behind me. A moment later you pulled a band of very dark, thick fabric over my eyes and tied it tightly around the back. I was in complete darkness, which heightened my other senses. Your footsteps seemed louder, the scent of the candles more sensual, the slight movements of air against my tormented penis more agonizing.

You caressed my cock gently with one finger. "I have to go out for a while, babe," you said, and kissed my cheek. Then, you were gone.



Frustration Pt. 06



And here I am now, waiting, listening, hoping, and praying for your return. 

An eternity passes in the quiet house. My cock actually begins to soften a little, giving me some blessed relief from the hours of aching need for orgasm. I begin to wonder if you plan to leave me here all day.

Then, I realize I am not alone in the room. Just how I know this I'm not sure, because I didn't hear footsteps or a door opening, or any other sound. But I know someone is here with me, and in a moment, whoever it is is close enough that I can hear soft breathing. Somehow I know it isn't you. I want to speak, to ask who it is, but the gag prevents it.

Soft hands close around my rigid cock for a moment; stroking it gently, then move up my stomach to my chest. Warm lips lock around one nipple, then the other, moving back and forth, sucking and nibbling and making me squirm against my restraints. Fingers gently stroke my chest, my arms, and my shoulders, everywhere. Strapped to the cross I am completely exposed to these anonymous explorations of my body. I want desperately to see who it is, but the blindfold is too wide and too thick.

So I submit to the caressing, teasing, tickling, and probing of the hands and mouth, relaxing and enjoying the experience, knowing I am powerless to stop it or even know who is doing it. And those hands and mouth are quite skilled, I quickly learn, finding all of my most sensitive areas and worshipping those in particular. Every few minutes my aching cock gets a brief moment of attention in the form of a light caress. 

After some time, the body worship becomes more intense, and I realize this stranger has brought toys when I feel the tight slipperiness of what can only be some kind of artificial cunt, like a Fleshlight, pushed down the length of my cock. A groan escapes around the gag, and a river of drool also, which trickles down my chest. The tight slick tube grasping my length slowly moves up and down, creating an exquisitely frustrating pleasure. I try to hump whatever it is, but the straps have my hips immobilized, and I am forced to accept whatever pace the anonymous stranger dictates. Slow, agonizingly slow...then a few fast jerks...then slower than ever...I am going mad with frustration, wanting to fuck the shit out of it, blast cum all over it, drain my balls completely inside it. 

Then the tube is suddenly slipped off my dick and I'm left bobbing and twitching and aching. But, a moment later, a mouth, a gloriously warm and wet mouth, slips down the length of my cock, and two hands reach around behind me and tease my ass crack lightly, separating my ass cheeks and invading the space right around my asshole. This makes me squirm with pleasure almost as much as the mouth enveloping my cock.

Then...a tongue coils lovingly down my shaft, and I feel the familiar zing of a metal piercing.

--------------

Later, when I am spent and exhausted, and you have returned and released me from the cross and the blindfold and the gag, and have given me a warm terrycloth robe to wear, we relax together in front of a crackling fire in your living room. You are dressed simply, nothing provocative now, just jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. You are barefoot, sitting on a comfortable chair, and I am seated on the floor at your feet. There is no sexual tension, no teasing -- just relaxation. 

The orgasm I experienced while bound to the cross was just as incredible as the one at the club had been, maybe more so because I was immobilized this time. After my cock had erupted into the sucking mouth, which swallowed every drop as greedily as before, I had heard soft footsteps leave the room. It was only a few minutes later that you had returned.

Now, I feel a blissful calm as we sit together enjoying the warmth of the fire. Your hand gently strokes my neck, not in a teasing way, but merely affectionate. 

We haven't been there long when I ask the question that is foremost in my mind.

"Who was that today?"

"That was the person I'm loaning you out to," you reply coyly.

I hadn't forgotten about that; in fact, the thought excited me. Especially if the anonymous visitor was who I thought it was.

"Was it the same person who was behind the gloryhole?" I ask, but I thought I already knew the answer.

"Yes."

You say no more.

After a few moments of silence I ask, "Was it Julie? The blonde? Her tongue piercing was fucking incredible."

You giggle softly, and run your fingers slowly through my hair, massaging my scalp.

"Oh baby, Julie doesn't have a tongue piercing."

I turn to look at you, and your hand falls away from my head. "What? So who was that? The redhead? Michelle?"

Your giggle turns into a laugh, and for a few long moments you don't answer. An idea comes into my mind then, and my eyes grow wide with humiliation and shock.

The truth is confirmed a moment later.

"Michelle doesn't have one either, sweetie," you say, taking my face between your hands and gazing at me with a cruel smile, all traces of tender affection gone. "But Todd does."

You give me a moment to absorb this. I feel betrayed, violated, and dirty...and fuck me if I don't feel aroused, too.

"Yes, that's right," you whisper, still looking me right in the eyes, reading my thoughts. "You're going bisexual for me. Todd is an amazing lover. He's fucked me more times than I can remember. And you already know about his cocksucking skills, don't you?"

You wait for a response, but the mix of burning shame and sexual arousal is overwhelming.

You frown and slap me across the cheek, not too hard but not gently, either. 

"I asked you a question." Your voice is all bitch now.

I manage to nod. "Yes, mistress. He's...amazing." I think of the warm mouth around my dick, and the zing of the tongue piercing, and the knowledge that the mouth belongs to a man, a man that had sucked me off not once, but twice, to the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life. 

Your radiant smile reappears like magic, and I'm helpless against it, as always. It makes me want to say or do anything to please you. And you know it.

A question forms in my mind, but I'm afraid to ask it. But it doesn't matter; as usual, you know what I'm thinking.

"You'll belong to Todd for two weeks," you say. "You'll be glad to know he doesn't tease like I do. He absolutely adores giving and receiving oral, though. I imagine the two of you will be servicing one another often." You pause, looking thoughtful. "In fact, if I know Todd, the blowjobs will be happening several times a day."

"Mistress, I can't suck another man's dick," I whisper hoarsely, staring at the floor. I can't meet your gaze.

"Bullshit. You can, and you will. If Todd reports to me that you're being anything but cooperative and sweet, you know perfectly well what happens."

"I never see you again, mistress."

"Good boy." You begin stroking my hair gently. "Besides, baby, I'll bet my diamond earrings that you'll become a damned good cocksucker, and that you'll love doing it."

I shake my head. "No, mistress." I still can't meet your eyes. I sit on the floor, head down, feeling your fingers in my hair, and tears of frustration welling in my eyes. "I can't do it. I can't suck his dick. Please don't make me, ma'am. He can suck mine all day if that's what he wants, but I can't do it to him."

"That's pretty goddamn selfish, don't you think?" you say. "If Todd blows you he certainly has a right to expect to be pleasured in return. You'll rise to the occasion, baby, I know you will. No pun intended." You giggle wickedly. "By the way, Todd has the most enormous, beautiful cock I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of them. Twelve inches -- I measured it once before we fucked, because I just had to know. And thick, too. Oh baby, you'll fall in love with his cock, I know you will."

I couldn't speak. My cheeks burned. And, at last, the tears came. They rolled silently down my cheeks and spilled onto the carpeted floor, making small dark dots. 

You either didn't notice or didn't care. "Oh, and Todd enjoys sixty-nine. You can expect to be in that position often. And he wants you to be fresh and clean all over at all times, so you're ready whenever he is. You'll need to shower right after every time the two of you suck each other off. He's very picky about that in his sexual partners."

You continued to run your fingers through my hair. 

"A couple more things you need to know. Todd will be picking you up here tomorrow, so we need to go over this now. Todd loves rimjobs. Not giving, just getting. Your tongue will be getting a workout. Also, anal sex. He is the dom in that situation. You will never fuck his ass. He will always fuck yours. You can probably expect him to assfuck you every evening. And it'll be bareback, he hates condoms. He'll break you in slowly of course; he knows you're a virgin that way. And yes, it will hurt like fucking crazy at first, because his dick is so big. But once your bitch-hole gets stretched a few times, it won't hurt so much."

You stop for a moment, watching the effect your words are having on me. My head is buried in my hands, and I'm whining like a kicked dog, a low, pathetic sound that makes you laugh.

"What's the matter?" you ask with exaggerated concern. "You aren't afraid of a little gay experience, are you, baby? Come on, this is the twenty-first century! Lots of guys experiment with being a sissy these days. By the time two weeks is over, you'll be begging for more."

In a swift motion, before I realize what you're doing, you reach down and pull the hem of the robe I'm wearing aside to reveal my cock. I have a raging erection, with precum trickling down the head.

"My goodness, baby! You are really enjoying this gay talk, aren't you?"

Almost against my will, I nod, face still in my hands. 

"Yes, mistress," I whisper.

-----------------------

Everything you told me that evening came true. Every single fucking word. 

I was Todd's for two weeks. His cock WAS huge. I became very good at sucking it, since he had me do it at least three times every day. He sucked mine, too, and it was just as amazing as it had been when he'd just been an anonymous mouth and tongue. His piercing was exactly what I'd imagined, a tiny metal stud with a sharp point on its upper end. We did sixty-nine, we did light bondage (I was always the sub, of course), and I gave him countless rim jobs. And yes, we did anal. Plenty of it, always with me the one getting fucked by Todd's monster dick. It hurt like fire at first, and the sensation of being penetrated by a man's cock made me weep with humiliation...for a while, anyway. But soon I realized the pleasure his cock was giving me mixed with the pain so perfectly that the sensation was beyond both pleasure and pain and into something I couldn't describe, but soon became addicted to. For the first few days of serving as Todd's sex toy, the only thing that kept me with him was the thought of never being able to see you again, a thought that made me feel ill and lost. But, after that, I stayed of my own free will. And, when the two weeks was over and Todd told me he would be taking me back to your place, I did exactly what you had said I would: I literally begged him to let me stay. I got on my knees and pleaded. I offered myself to him as his personal sex object for as long as he wanted.

But nothing worked. He took me back to your house and said goodbye, giving me an air-kiss and brief crotch-squeeze before driving away.

-------------------

It was late afternoon when Todd dropped me off, and you were home getting ready to leave for the gentleman's club for your evening shows, the club where you had picked me out of the crowd what seemed like ages ago.

"Did you and Todd get along, babe?" you asked off-handedly as you checked your makeup with a critical eye in a bathroom mirror.

"Yes, mis-"

"Never mind," you interrupted. "I know you did. Todd gave me daily updates. He said you're pretty decent dicksucker, but that you still need more practice."

"Does that mean I will be loaned to Todd again soon, mistress?" I asked. I found myself feeling hopeful at the thought. Some dim part of my brain realized how totally degraded I had become. Most of me didn't give a shit.

"No," you said, and were silent for a few minutes, looking at yourself in the mirror. I was standing a few steps behind you. Finally, you turned and walked past me out of the bathroom. Without pausing to look at me as you went, you said, "Julie gets you next. Todd liked you, but said you weren't worth what he paid for you."

My stomach became a hard knot. Paid? I tried not to look shocked, because I knew you would pick up on it and embarrass me somehow.

"Yes, sweetie," you said with an air of impatience, as I followed you to the front hall. "I charge my friends to borrow you. I thought you'd be able to figure that out on your own, but I guess not." You pulled a suede coat out of the closet and handed it to me, expecting me to put it on you. I moved to obey, my mind numb.

"You cost quite a bit, babe," you tell me as I hold the coat up and you slide your arms into the sleeves. "One thousand dollars per day, or 200 dollars per hour. Non-negotiable."

Once you had the coat on and buttoned, you moved in close to me. The faint scent of your perfume made me slightly dizzy. You slipped one hand down the front of my pants, found my cock, and began to massage the head. 

"In case you're wondering if you'll see any of that money," you cooed in my ear, "the answer is no." You gave my cockhead a little squeeze. "But so what? As long as you behave you've got the best reward of all."

You put your glossy lips close to my ear, so close I could feel them tickling my earlobe, and said, "Me."

Then you turned, opened the front door, and walked out, closing the door behind you and leaving me there in your front hallway, alone. And as I stood, thinking about your last words, and about the sexual hell you had put me through over the last few weeks, something inside me clicked into place, some mental loose end that in that moment was finally tied off. 

I realized, and accepted with a sense of deep gratitude, how devoted to you I had really become. To have things any other way, and not be owned and used by you, would be the real hell; every new day that you possessed me was another day you saved me from the flames.

The End